


5 Council Members Aethas Tried to Seduce and 1 He Didn't

by alternatedoom



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: 5 Things, Aftercare, Ageism, Anal Sex, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bad Sex, Council of Six, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Femdom, Gender or Sex Swap, Good Sex, Human Stereotypes, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexism, Sexual Humor, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 06:29:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9372335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alternatedoom/pseuds/alternatedoom
Summary: Aethas wants back in the Kirin Tor at any cost.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My muse has been lying dead in a ditch for some months but briefly and whimsically rezzed for this. It has not been beta'ed or had a second pair of eyes on it.
> 
> (Gift status removed by request.)

Aethas Sunreaver was not "into" humans, as their slang had it, but he did like them. After all, he'd spent the happiest portion of his life sharing the city their races' combined talents and extraordinary learning had built on the foundations of the arcane. And with the return of the Legion, he could spend no more time moping around Silvermoon. He was ready to act. He had to ensure his return to the fold of the Kirin Tor. And so he teleported to Booty Bay, took a room at the Salty Sailor Tavern, and sent out five magical messages.

All the members of the Council of Six were eccentric people, Aethas supposed, in their different ways, and save Jaina they all kept too busy for serious, long-term romantic entanglements. None of them were wed, so moral qualms about spouses would not be a problem for anyone. Karlain had been married once, Aethas knew, but he was a widower, and Ansirem had a daughter he'd begotten somewhere, but no wife.

-1-

The first invitation for a visit was made out to Khadgar. He was fantastically powerful and handsome enough for an older human man, with piercingly bright blue eyes beautiful enough for any elf to appreciate, and his breath was always minty and clean-smelling. Aethas had high hopes for getting Khadgar on his side, for they shared, he thought, a mutual respect, and they'd always gotten on well.

Aethas was right. Khadgar was more than receptive. Khadgar readily agreed to all of it.

"I'm never going to let you out of here," Khadgar growled--growled!--at him as he backed Aethas against the bed and pushed him down on the tattered, ill-fitting blanket. Khadgar growled a good deal during sex, it turned out, often wordlessly, apparently out of need.

Khadgar was so awkward in bed, he wasn't awkward at all. He didn't pretend or hide his desire or his hunger. He seemed almost out of practice, or inexperienced even, and there was nothing delicate or skilled about his kisses, but Aethas couldn't help but enjoy the nearly desperate intensity of his caresses and the forceful quality of his thrusting. Khadgar did not feign detachment and nonchalance the way an elf would at an overture for casual/purposeful sex. Khadgar was endearingly humble, and his passionate enthusiasm was a flattering balm to Aethas' still-mangled ego.

"I didn't know you felt this way about me," Aethas said breathlessly as Khadgar nibbled his ear and ineptly squeezed his forearms. Khadgar was covered in silvery-grey hair, a long, dense, sweat-dampened mat that tickled Aethas' chest when their bodies pressed close.

"I've always liked you, Aethas, but to be fair, I've never liked you as much as I do in this moment," Khadgar said, shortly before all his muscles clenched and he flooded Aethas with his thick human come.

"Keep in mind, I'm only one member of the Council," Khadgar warned after he caught his breath, still propped over Aethas, his forehead heavily beaded with sweat. Aethas could feel Khadgar's come gradually leaking out into the crack of his ass and slipping down to soak a spot on the blanket beneath them, a blanket which turned out to feel scratchy on top of all its other faults. "I will advocate on the Sunreavers' behalf, and I will bring the issue for a vote, but I can only do so much to persuade the others."

"I know."

"But be cautious if you approach them," Khadgar advised, dripping perspiration on him, and with his lust sated, Aethas found that sensation somewhat less erotic than he had earlier. "You're a brilliant mage, and I very much want you back with us, but you're not as good with people as you think you are."

The suggestion was so kindly made Aethas bit back his sharp retort. He and Khadgar had enjoyed an agreeably diverting evening, no sense ruining it. 

"Thank you for the advice, Khadgar," he said graciously, and discreetly wiped Khadgar's sweat out of his eye.

-2-

Modera was an old friend, but he decided to make her the same offer as the others. He knew nothing of Modera's personal life, for she never spoke of it, probably because there was nothing to tell. As an older human woman who did not cloak her age overmuch with glamours, Modera likely had few romantic prospects. Though power would not impress her, she would probably be only too pleased to have the temporary attentions of a person as beautiful as himself. He would sweep her off her feet, carry her to the bed, and make love to her for an hour or two. They were already good friends, so she would likely be the easiest of the Council members to sway to his side. The only potential problem might be if she couldn't keep her heart out of it, and his one-time-only, affectionate offer was misconstrued as a commitment more significant or longer-term.

But once he got her on the threadbare couch and made his proposal, she was oddly resistant. "I'm not sure we're suited," Modera said mildly. "I doubt you could satisfy me."

Did she think he was poorly endowed? Too young or too selfish to be skilled in the bedchamber? Aethas took offense but hid his irritation. "Give me a chance," Aethas told her earnestly. "I will endeavor to please you in any way you wish."

"All right," Modera said, but the expression on her face was so strange, Aethas wondered. 

"Take off your clothes, close your eyes, and wait while I get a few things ready," Modera told him, and she picked up her handbag. Aethas relaxed, having visions of candles, or rose petals on the bedspread perhaps, like in one of the romance novels women so adored. But if she just wanted to wash up, that was considerate and fine. Wanting to prove himself accommodating and eager to satisfy, he disrobed with his eyes shut, dropping his garments into a pile on the floor, then sat back down to wait. He heard her steps fading away and growing louder returning, heard her circling the couch back to him.

When Modera finally said, "Open your eyes," she was wearing a black silk robe and high-heeled boots, carrying a folded leather strap in one hand and with a riding crop tucked under her arm. Aethas puzzled for a second over the strap, but her face distracted him. Modera's face was changed, strange, unmoving, even stern. He stood but hesitated to take her in his arms, and then it was too late. Before he knew it, there was a leather collar buckled around his neck and Modera was fastening a leash to the steel ring in it.

The strap was a leash.

"What are--" he stuttered. Of all the things he'd been expecting, this was not one of them.

Modera tugged him down to his knees on the splintery wooden planks of the floor, and whapped him with the crop on his hand when he started to object. "Ow!" he shouted. "Modera--"

"It will be 'Mistress' to you this afternoon," Modera said coolly. "If you wish to continue. Unless you've changed your mind, and would like me to go?"

Slowly Aethas shook his head. Her robe fell open, revealing elaborate corsetry, and Aethas could see the wearable rubber cock strapped to her hips. The fake cock was large; disturbingly so. He managed to keep himself from gaping at her.

"You are here to submit. Not to speak." Modera thought for a moment. "The safeword will be... 'Theramore.' If you use the safeword, I will take my leave. And this lead you have on Felo'melorn better amount to something. On your hands and knees."

Aethas scowled angrily at her but obeyed, and the next flick of the crop forced him to forget his ire and focus on the sharp crack of agony that lanced through his left buttock.

*

Modera was twisted in ways beyond the darkest fever dreams of the most perverted Silvermoon libertine. He would never be able to look at her the same way again. The gleaming mithril cock cage she fastened on him was painful, digging into his flesh, compressing the erection his body strained for but which was made physically impossible. He whimpered outright when she clamped his balls with some kind of clip. The wet insertion of the bushy, arched zhevra-tail buttplug would have been demeaning at any other time but felt like a tender kiss by comparison. With a nasty flogger Modera pushed him to the limits of his pain tolerance, then blew past them with the riding crop. The whole time he was waiting with a sense of queasy anticipation to be violated with that daunting length of rubber. Aethas swore to himself that even if she tore him open and bloody with it, he would not speak the humiliating safeword. He would see this mockery of a friendly sexual encounter through to the end. He would be welcomed home again, whatever the cost.

The cage finally came off, replaced with a metal cock ring tightened by liberal use of magical shrinking. He was allowed to come at long last, after he'd licked and sucked Modera off no fewer than four times, after what felt like hours of cruel teasing on her part, and then Modera intentionally ruined his orgasm by simply ceasing all stimulation at the most crucial moment. He almost screamed in frustration. Could this side of Modera have something to do with why Rommath so loathed her beyond reason...?

As he used his not-inconsiderable oral talents to lick and nuzzle her to yet another orgasm, he felt wretched. He'd heard human men could be rough in bed, but he hadn't expected this level of malevolent debauchery from Modera of all people. Still he refused to let anyone see him cry.

"You're lovely when you suffer," Modera told him, as kind as Khadgar, when she removed the clamp from his balls, and it hurt so much he rocked and writhed and couldn't hold back the tears.

Modera never used the fake cock on him, but she did cuddle him afterwards, for which Aethas was more grateful than he would have expected. He felt shell-shocked and strangely needy. He couldn't comfortably sit down, but in the first maternal gesture since she'd turned up at his door, Modera pulled a tin of freshly baked, non-conjured chocolate chip cookies from her purse, and she broke them into pieces and fed him small bites as he lay on his side on the lumpy couch with his head in her lap. Grandmotherly, that's what he'd thought Modera would be like. The sort of older woman who would tote around fresh cookies in her bag.

"You're very beautiful, but I don't think the level of your submission is adequate for my needs," Modera told him gently, petting his brow. "If I showed you a needle, I think you would faint."

 _Needles?_ Aethas stared up at her in anguish. Had all his misery been for nothing? "Modera, I am a sin'dorei battle-mage. I do not faint."

"If you say so," Modera said with her usual matronly smile, clearly humoring him. "But we're done here."

Aethas felt too broken to even try to hide his despair. "Are you saying you won't--"

"Oh, don't worry. I know you badly want to return, and I'll vote yes." Modera patted his cheek and placed another fragment of chocolate chip cookie into his distressed mouth. "I think you are a great asset to the Kirin Tor, Aethas, when you behave yourself."

-3-

Aethas didn't have time to lay around for a week to recover from Modera's ruthless attentions, so he teleported himself to Silvermoon to see Aldrae. Bent over with his pants lowered, he felt rather than saw Aldrae's raised eyebrow, and wearily told him the injuries were gotten for the greater good of Quel'Thalas. Aldrae took his vows to the Light and the priesthood with a seriousness that bordered on obsession, making him known through Silvermoon City as the go-to priest for all injuries of an erotic nature, and he healed Aethas' reddened, striped, bruised and battered bottom without judgement, questions, or laughter.

So the only pain that lasted was to Aethas' pride. But getting Karlain to come to him took time and repeated messages with increasing levels of urgency.

Four magical telegrams later, Karlain finally came to his room at the inn. When Aethas opened the door, Karlain looked him up and down uneasily.

"Archmage Karlain, will you come in?" Aethas asked.

Karlain gave him a look that could only be described as suspicious. "Aethas. What do you want?"

A troll in armor and a half-dressed goblin gigolo rounded the corner of the hall hand-in-hand, the troll loping slowly to allow her companion to keep up. Aethas smiled at them and waited for them to disappear down the corridor before he resumed.

"I'd prefer to discuss that privately rather than out here in the hall," Aethas said amicably, keeping his posture non-threatening and his hands where Karlain could see them.

"You can say whatever you have to say right here." Karlain had more of a gut than Aethas preferred, and his face appeared permanently set in grouchy lines to go with his grumbling voice. The balding, ringed-hair look was not something Aethas liked either. But his own sexual desires were irrelevant. Aethas refocused on Karlain's face.

"I have a proposal for you," Aethas said, and made it.

Karlain seemed more taken aback than Khadgar and Modera. "You're not really my type," Karlain said, eyeing Aethas up and down.

Aethas leaned against the doorway in a pose he knew showed off the litheness of his shape. "You don't fancy elves?"

Karlain looked uncomfortable. "I don't know that I--"

"You prefer women in your bed, I know." Aethas produced three vials of transmorphic tincture, holding them in one outstretched palm. "I can tend to your pleasure as a beautiful lady of the sin'dorei."

Still Karlain balked. "That seems... odd, Aethas."

"Transmorphic tinctures are not that odd," Aethas said, thinking of Modera and her agonizing scrotal clamp. "You've never tried one yourself?"

Karlain looked puzzled. "Why would I want to do that?"

"To touch-- for breasts?" Aethas was bewildered by Karlain's evident failure of imagination. But he stopped himself there, not wanting to get mired down in a losing conversation.

"I don't want you to drink those," Karlain said, suddenly decisive. "Too fake and too strange."

"All well and good," Aethas said, and he was pleased with his own smooth recovery. "You never even have to see what's between my legs. Just pretend it's not there." Aethas used the velvety register of his voice to his best advantage, and he leaned forward slightly, tilting his chin down and looking up through his lashes to make the stocky Karlain feel tall, employing all the inviting seductiveness for which his people were famed. "Let me wrap my lips around your cock and take you to a place where all you feel is ecstasy."

Karlain looked doubtful, but after glancing down the hallway to make sure no one was around to see, he came in.

What happened after that went far, far beyond the furtive, eye-contact-free cocksucking the conversation led Aethas to figure on. He ended up flat on his back on the bed, his ankles pushed all the way to his ears, straining the limits of his admirable flexibility as he gasped for air. Karlain jerked him off shamelessly and fingered his asshole before pounding him without mercy. Karlain was like an animal in bed, even more so than Khadgar had been, rough and dominant as though he was laying fierce claim to an intensely desired possession. Aethas could scarcely believe the disheveled, perpetually grumpy Karlain was like this in private. Karlain was so... schlubby, but when he leered down and rubbed the head of Aethas' cock, Aethas came screaming.

-4-

Like Karlain, Ansirem was not rumored to be into men, and Aethas rather doubted Ansirem would have hidden sexual depths like Karlain. Nevertheless, once Aethas drank one of the transmorphic tinctures, Ansirem was on top of him before he could even finish his sentence. He took Aethas almost insatiably, first vaginally, then anally, then vaginally again, until Aethas was sore from friction in both holes. Despite his dapper and distinguished appearance, Ansirem's face and manner were not enticing to Aethas, and Ansirem did nothing in particular to get him wet besides spit on him a few times, and with poor aim at that. Aethas had plenty of experience with transmorphic tinctures, and he knew he made an alluring elven woman. His breasts were full, his waist narrow, his neck long and slender. The muscles of his arms subsided into slimness. He had a small but delicious clit that felt exquisite when teased up to a swollen condition and steadily rubbed from there. Unfortunately, Ansirem ignored that part of his altered anatomy entirely.

As if all that weren't enough, Ansirem's breath was like the rancid, choking odor of a dead animal, and he had no conception of what constituted desirable bedroom talk. "Your pussy is so hot," Ansirem told him when he was balls-deep. That first part wasn't bad, but he immediately followed it up with: "You should stay like this all the time. Actually, it's too bad you're an elf."

Aethas gritted his teeth, but Dalaran was his home, not Silvermoon, certainly not dilapidated, disreputable Booty Bay where organized crime was the norm and vomit was cleaned off the streets three times weekly, and he was willing to endure far more than the various indignities of Ansirem Runeweaver's company to be able to go home again. "You should have said so before, I'd have done an illusion to appear human," he said calmly.

"Eh, doesn't matter." Then Ansirem seemed to change his mind. "Actually."

"Yes?"

"Could you look like Jaina?"

Aethas was speechless for a moment, then nodded. Wear his arch-enemy's face and body in bed for the pleasure of a man he misliked? "Of course, Ansirem."

Ansirem pulled out of him, allowing Aethas to teeter up and stand (which he could, if just barely, his legs had been forced so wide open his sleek thighs ached where they met his torso) and focus and cast an illusory spell. Aethas shortened and rounded his ears, thickened his thighs and waist, plumped his arms up a notch, added some curves to his hips and calves and ass, and brought Jaina's face to the forefront of his mind; her full lips, her serious, slightly sad gray eyes, her white hair with the single lock of gold.

"No no, blond all the way," Ansirem said, correcting him mid-illusion. "Much hotter."

Sighing internally, Aethas obligingly turned his hair fully golden.

"Streak of white, don't forget the streak," Ansirem commanded. "Get rid of the crows' feet. Better, yes. Now, less bitterness in the eyes." He pursed his lips, evaluating Aethas' creation. "Don't forget to smile, you look like someone dropped a mana bomb on your house." Ansirem chuckled at his own crass jest, and hoping Jaina Proudmoore would drop dead and have her corpse eaten by Underbelly rats didn't mean Aethas couldn't be disgusted with the callous vulgarity of a joke like that one.

No sooner had Aethas complied with this rapid-fire list of demands then Ansirem was pushing him back down. Male- or female-bodied, Aethas didn't favor going ass to mouth, but that's what they were doing.

All seemed in order until Ansirem went to take his leave, at which point the archmage informed him that not only did he not trust Aethas, he was hoping to bang the real Jaina, and thus regrettably would need to vote 'nay.'

-5-

Vargoth had no objections to meeting with him, and he wandered into the rented room without a fuss, but he didn't seem to understand the idea. To be fair, Aethas started out slowly.

"I wished to discuss my potential return to Dalaran with you," Aethas said meaningfully. Aethas wanted to make this approach with care. Vargoth was a bit of an odd duck, and his sexuality was a mystery. "To have my Sunreavers return. I seek to rejoin the Kirin Tor."

Vargoth leaned back in his seat, steepling his fingers. "How much do you know about the side effects of temporal displacement in the Twisting Nether on the body?"

Aethas blinked. Was this a test? "I don't think..." he began, but trailed off quizzically, not sure how to answer. Aethas had forgotten how squealingly pitched Vargoth's voice was, like a gnome who'd sucked helium after taking psychedelics.

"That's your problem, Aethas, you don't think." Vargoth gave a rolling shrug, a strangely disjointed motion, first one side and then the other. "This is a cozy room," he said, looking around vacantly. "I might get a room here for the night. I find myself weary."

Naturally Aethas had ponied up for a private room, one with an actual bed as opposed to sailors' hammocks, but even the private rooms in the Salty Sailor were drafty and ill-appointed. The mattress smelled like soured wine and the shabby couch had the odor of mothballs. The scent of rum-provoked vomit lingered about the washbasin. He chose to ignore Vargoth's commentary about the room entirely.

"I won't take much of your time. I do appreciate the criticism, and I assure you I've done a great deal of soul-searching since my exile. As I was saying, I would be ever so grateful if you would vote to allow me to return to Dalaran when the issue is raised before the Council. I would be most _obliged_ to you."

Vargoth studied his own hands. "The long-term side effects are what I'm interested in."

Aethas looked at him in disbelief. "There are none known. Who comes back from that?"

"Good question," Vargoth said, and gazed abstractedly at his palms, lost in thought.

"Vargoth," Aethas said, patiently and painstakingly, "I am asking whether you would like to have your way with me in exchange for a vote of 'yea' on allowing me to return to Dalaran."

Vargoth stared blankly. His left shoulder twitched, then stilled.

"To take me sexually?"

Vargoth finally glanced up at him. Vargoth was perhaps the most handsome of the men of the Six, with his long hair the color of maize in autumn, his neatly matching beard, and his unlined face, but his manner was weirding Aethas out. "I can cast an illusion or drink a transmorphic tincture if you prefer a woman," Aethas said, sighing. He had run fresh out of seductiveness, it seemed. He just wanted to be done with this undertaking. He only wanted to go home. "If I've offended your delicate sensibilities, refuse me, and we can have tea before you go back to Dalaran."

"I'd rather wine if you have it." Vargoth swayed slightly in his seat, as though he were already drunk, or as though under the effects of a hypnosis spell. His knee jerked once, his lower leg kicking out as if a reflex had been triggered.

Aethas peered at him. "Archmage, are you all right?"

"Oh, of course," Vargoth said suddenly, straightening, his eyes aware once again. "I-- I hear distant voices, sometimes, Aethas. That's all. I agree to watch you, I've been interested in this." Vargoth motioned vaguely to his lap. "Have at it, I'll vote yes."

Vargoth's behavior was beyond peculiar, but Aethas didn't need to be told twice. He dropped to his knees by the couch, still looking at Vargoth questioningly. Vargoth had always been quirky even by the standards of mages, but he seemed off somehow, strange even for the high bar he set simply by virtue of being himself. Vargoth was staring at him intently, focused on him as pointedly and expectantly as though he were a crucial spell component about to catalyze.

Aethas deftly peeled up the folds of Vargoth's royal violet robes and parted the gap, sewn for calls of nature, in Vargoth's leggings. He withdrew the springy-soft human cock he found beneath, and applied his lips and tongue to the glans and his hand to the shaft. Vargoth groaned and shifted his hips, hardening with appropriate rapidity.

Interested in this, he'd said. Had Vargoth never--? Aethas slid his hand down, pressing the circle of his curled thumb and index finger into the fleshy base around Vargoth's cock, then deep-throated him. And then, less than a minute after starting, and mere seconds after he took Vargoth's length fully into his mouth, Vargoth was shuddering, sliding his hips erratically and spilling his seed.

Human come was unaccountably bitter, he'd discovered with Ansirem. Silvermoon's vicious rumor mill aside, he'd never before exchanged sexual favors in his rise to the position he'd attained, and Khadgar had been the first human he'd ever seen cause to take to bed. He hadn't tasted Khadgar's, but Vargoth's emission was much the same as Ansirem's: akin to having his mouth flooded with pulsing tablespoons of bleach. Aethas swallowed some, gagged, spat a greater quantity into his hand, and started to draw away to clean his tongue off more thoroughly.

Vargoth tapped his shoulder, leaned down, and lowered his voice to a whisper. "We are all prisoners. All of us. Remember that."

Something was amiss with Vargoth's eyes, and Aethas couldn't have said what it was. The short hairs on the back of his neck rose as they stared at each other. But he didn't have long to think on it, for Vargoth suddenly stood and without even tucking his cock away headed for the door at a run, his gait unsteady. Aethas looked after him in astonishment, but he was in truth rather relieved to have Vargoth departing. The bar lobby of the Salty Sailor had seen far worse than one possibly mad, fleeing archmage with his cock flopping about, Aethas was certain.

-1-

A few minutes after Vargoth bolted, another knock came at the door. Hoping for some positivity-- perhaps Ansirem had realized Jaina Proudmoore would never touch him with a polearm and had reconsidered?-- Aethas swung open the door and found himself facing the lady of the Kirin Tor herself.

Aethas stiffened, but the last time he fought Jaina the course of the battle was brief and went notably poorly for him. Outrageously powerful, with magical might beyond might, she'd cast an abrupt silencing spell on him, killed his guards, who'd been friends, and cut through his personal wards like a hot knife through butter. Her magic, penetrating his, felt like the unstoppable force of lightning punching down through rain clouds. By the time he was released from the ice block she used for ease of transport, he was weak and shivering, and magical suppression prevented him from so much as warming his extremities. They'd brought him back to the greatroom of the Citadel afterwards, and Zuros had channeled arcane magic to keep both his strength and will sapped. Aethas couldn't even feel anger towards Zuros; the mage-commander had merely been following Jaina's orders, and when Rommath and company flung open the Citadel doors, Zuros paid for that choice with his life. What Aethas had learned was: when Jaina grew wrathful, people suffered, and people died. A needless resumption of one-on-one hostilities with her would be the sort of mistake he had no intention of making.

And so he stayed the arcane attack that his fingers instinctively readied. Pushing back against his panic, he glanced up at his doorframe and saw his wards held fast, untouched. 

"Jaina--" he began, but Jaina cut him off.

"I may not be able to move against you now, but I know what you're doing, you whore of a mage," Jaina said furiously. "You disgrace Dalaran and the Council with your--your antics!"

"I've done nothing," Aethas said in the calm and graceful tones he knew infuriated her. She should not be able to harm him so long as his protective wards remained active and he stayed inside his rented room. He glanced up at the glowing runes once more to make sure. Jaina was unmistakably dangerous. "I'm allowed to have friends who remain on the Council. If you don't like that, take it up with them."

"Stop lying. And stay away from my city," Jaina said menacingly. Perhaps she'd come only to threaten him, for she did not attempt to advance on him or enter the room.

"It's not _your_ city, but you made it crystal clear I'm not welcome," Aethas said. "There's a reason I'm here and not in the Legerdemain. Good day." He began to shut the door and paused. "Oh, and Jaina. Since you're here... you should know Ansirem is quite passionate about you. If he comes to call, I highly recommend you take him up on it."

Jaina's confused look as he slammed the door in her face was most satisfying.

Going home would be more satisfying still.

**Author's Note:**

> LOOKS CAN BE DECEEEEEIVING!


End file.
